


No Time Like the Present

by thewritingkoala, Tina0609



Series: Tom & Charlie [9]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Charlie breaks Evie's heart, Charlie messes up, Disappointment, Drinking, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Vacation, First Fight, Heartbreak, Making Up, Swearing, Tipsy!Tom - Freeform, forgetting dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-10-09 14:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17408921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/pseuds/Tina0609
Summary: Charlie is busy. Too busy. She messes up, and Tom doesn't deal with it the right way.How will they make up again?





	1. No Time Like the Present

 

  
It’s been a hell of a day. Well, there’s been a lot ‘hell of a day’s since she’s become chief ward physician.

It’s coming up with work schedules, working alongside the heads of the department, talking to parents and patients more than before and doing research. All that on top of the actual nine-to-five job which has hardly ever been a nine-to-five job at all.

But ever since that horrible day in the hospital almost ten months ago, Charlie thrives on being at her workplace. It’s almost as if instead of avoiding it, she’s throwing herself in. Something her therapist thinks is good for her.

It also means, she’s not there for Tom and Evie that much, though. They’ve seen her tired before, but never like this and as often as in these past weeks since her promotion. But it’s all good and will probably get better once she’s settled.

Right now, she wants to sleep. Tomorrow is Saturday, it’s 7.30 p.m., and Charlie still has half an hour left before Evie needs to go to bed.

But as she opens Tom’s door with her own key, she’s greeted by darkness and Boots, but not by Evie – or her father for that matter.

“Tom?” she calls out. Did she miss something? Is something wrong? They said, they’d meet at Tom’s today, didn’t they?

Charlie freezes. Shit. Oh, shit. They did agree to go to Tom’s. After the pub to which they wanted to go after dropping Evie off at Emma’s.

She curses, hastily picks out her phone from the pocket of the jacket, curses some more when she sees two missed calls from Tom, and then dials his number.

* * *

Charlie still isn’t here.

Tom isn’t exactly sulking out here on the pub’s back porch but he’s now getting a bit worried. She’s been so busy lately, with all those new responsibilities. There’s been a time or two–or three or four–when she had to cancel something due to an emergency. That was bound to happen, and he can live with it. He’s cancelled a zillion things in his life already, some during his acting highs, some when Evie needed him.

But usually, there’s a quick message from Charlie to notify him. Today, there’s nothing. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and stares at it, considering whether he should call her a third time.

“All good things come in threes,” he mutters to himself, his finger hovering over the call button.

“You know, you’re not supposed to talk  _to_ your phone but use it for talking to other people,” comes a dry remark from his left.

Tom glances up at one of this evening’s buddies. Matthew has strolled over from where he’s been sneaking in a cigarette, blowing a smoke ring across. Tom rolls his eyes at the tall man’s smirk. But before he can react to the good-natured snark, his phone rings.

Charlie, at last!

“Yeah?” he answers and actually cringes a bit at his own tone. So, maybe he’s a little more annoyed than he initially thought he was. But it’s mostly because he worries.

“I’m so sorry!” Charlie sounds frantic, her voice high-pitched and a little out of breath. “I forgot. I’m so sorry. I’m at your flat, I can still come over. When did we want to meet again?”

“An hour and a half ago.”

“Oh.”

Yeah. Oh. Tom sighs as there’s only rustling on the other end of the call. “Are you okay? Did anything happen?”

“I’m okay. I just… I forgot.”

Tom cringes again, ignoring the looks he’s getting from Matthew while his friend is obviously listening in, seemingly not worried about going back inside and leaving matters to Tom.

Couldn’t she just have lied to him? But no, Tom shakes his head to himself. He doesn’t want anything to happen to Charlie, of course not. He’s had enough action these last couple of years. But ‘I forgot’ doesn’t sound that great either.

“Okay,” he finally answers. “You don’t have to come. Matthew’s and Jamie’s wives couldn’t make it either. It’s fine.” Well. They could make it, but decided to leave after the first round and go back to Matthew’s for a wine.

“Oh. Yeah. I can pick up Evie, though? Now that I’m home she doesn’t have to stay with Emma. I can put her to bed here.”

Despite his little annoyance, a small smile steals itself on Tom’s face. Charlie is great with Evie, and that won’t change.

“She’d love that.” She really would, because damn, Evie’s missing Charlie almost more than he is.

It takes Tom a moment to realize that Charlie - despite her offer - might be too exhausted to drive there and take Evie home.

“Are you sure you aren’t too tired? I could go get her instead and we can all snuggle for a bit.”

There’s a longish silence at the other end. Is he really considering this? Just when he’s getting worried that she might indeed be too tired, she replies.

“No, don’t. You’ve probably had a drink too many already. I’ll get her. You have another glass of whatever poison you’re imbibing and then find your way home, hm.”

“kay.” Tom grimaces, hating it that he still sounds a bit sulky but at the same time eager to spend time with her. He tells her to drive safely and hangs up, stuffing the phone back into the pocket.

Matthew is leaning against the railing close by, tall lean body almost folded in half. He’s studying Tom through the cigarette smoke.

“What?” he mutters, wondering whether their buddy Jamie has ordered another round of drinks in their short absence.

“You look a bit pouty there, mate,” drawls Matthew. “Were you hoping for some tipsy bedroom shenanigans?” He smirks and winks.

Tom elbows him in the ribs, then grabs his cigarette and takes a rebellious puff. Huh. He hasn’t done that for a long time.

“So what if I was?” he asks, taking another drag before Matthew reclaims his smoke. “I’m gonna be jus’ as happy cuddling with my two ladies.”

The other actor nods. “Yeah, I get that.” He probably does, being a father of three. “Just stop sulking or those ladies aren’t likely to want a cuddle.”

* * *

Charlie finds herself in front of Emma’s door 20 minutes later. She should be happy but instead is a little concerned about how much Evie laughs, smiles and grins at the prospect of spending the evening with Charlie.

“I thought you wanted to go out with Tom? Did something happen?” Emma whispers, probably trying to not let Evie hear, in case something really is amiss.

“No,” Charlie replies smoothly – or so she hopes, “Everything is fine. I just… something came up at work and so Tom went alone. So, picking Evie up seemed like a good idea.”

Plus, she’s feeling bad about how rarely she’s seen Evie these past few weeks. Did she grow a bit as well?

The girl in question bounces along the hallway and back to the door, her little suitcase in hand. “I’m ready!” With a big grin she uses her free hand to push some hair out of her face and then gives both women a toothy smile.

Charlie melts. Or, melts even more, because she did that from Day 1. No more, or at least a little less, work that keeps her away from, well, her family.

They say their good-byes to Emma, who still looks a little confused, and make their drive home.

“So,” Charlie starts, “I guess since I just picked you up, we can both stay up a little later tonight, would you like that?” It’s met with enthusiastic clapping, Charlie interprets as a ‘yes’.

“What are we doooooooing?”

“Get in our pyjamas, brush our teeth and watch a Disney movie?”

“Yay!”

She laughs as she shifts gears and turns the corner of the street Tom and Evie are living in. Charlie hides a yawn in her hand, looking in the rear view mirror to see Evie rubbing her eyes.

She seriously asks herself which one of them will fall asleep faster.

* * *

Back inside the pub, Tom shrugs into his coat. His buddy Jamie, sporting the beard he favours these days, chugs down the last of his beer.

“Are you sure you don’t want a cab?” he asks, his Irish accent more pronounced because he’s slightly tipsy.

Tom shakes his head. “It’ll take Charlie some time until she’s home with Evie. I’ll walk, lose some of the alcohol to clear my head.”

“And lose some of the sulkiness on the way too,” Matthew interjects with another lopsided smirk. He draws Tom in for a hug, slapping him on the back. “s going to be alright, old chap. Just quit the pouting. Get mad instead.” He draws away and winks. “And then enjoy the make-up sex.”

Jamie snort-giggles into his empty glass and rises to give Tom a hug of his own. “Yeah, what he said. We’ll have that husbands-and-wives evening another day. Maybe with Ben too.”

With a nod and a thanks, Tom squeezes his shoulder. He strides out of the pub, pulling his collar up against the cold.

Mad? No, he won’t get mad at Charlie for something like this. He’s an understanding man. And it’s not like they’re married. Right?

Along the way, he does get mad at the pavement though. Because it’s a bit more windy than he remembers and it’s supposed to be easier to follow that path.

He was all fine at the pub. While Matthew and Jamie tried out a whisky as well, Tom stayed true to his promise (to himself mostly) and did not drink anything else than Guinness.

Looks like two hours in the pub and drowning beer still catches up to him, though. He even had a smoke.

A slight panic makes him falter so much, he has to lean against the wall of a cafe for a moment. Can Charlie smell the smoke, and will she be mad?

No, he decides a moment later and continues on his way, she won’t get mad over something like that, either.

Plus, Tom’s missed her. He doesn’t want one forgotten meeting to taint their evening.

Plus, plus, he’s also feeling a little cute at the moment. One well-placed pout and maybe when they’ll have put Evie to bed – it’s past her bedtime, but he does know his girlfriend and her guilty conscience – there will be snuggling after all.

He giggles to himself.  _Snuggling_.

“Shit,” he then mutters as the pavement again made an unexpected turn and he can hear the couple that’s just passed him snicker at him. It’s not that funny. He still decides to take a few moments for himself, learning against another wall of another cafe, before he continues his walk.

And then after what feels like no time at all – which is strange, because the walk normally takes at least 30 minutes – Tom’s at his front door, glad to see Charlie’s car parked in the driveway. Hasn’t she picked up Evie yet?

He takes a confirming look at his watch to make sure that he indeed must have flown here. And freezes. 8.30 is glaring back at him. Huh. It must have been those stupid curves in the pavement that made him slower and managed to make him need 15 minutes longer for his walk.

Or, he indeed is a little tipsy. But that state is okay, though. He can still function.

A fact he’s always made sure of after that disaster that was Charlie’s and his second meeting. He can drink one, two or ten drinks, but he wants to be a functioning father – in the evening as well as with just a little headache in the morning – for Evie.

* * *

Charlie, snuggled up to Evie on the sofa, checks the clock.

Huh. Tom’s still not here, and there’s no sound of an approaching cab. What’s taking him so long? She stifles a yawn, wondering briefly whether Matthew or Jamie might’ve persuaded Tom to stay for a few more drinks. Maybe he’s secretly mad at her or sulking?

That makes her snap out of her exhaustion for a bit, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

“This one,” half-shouts Evie, jolting her out of her thoughts. She’s waving around a DVD of ‘Moana’, a movie she’s seen at least a dozen times already.

Charlie smiles. “Excellent choice.” She gets up ready the movie. Should she also get some popcorn? Or will they fall asleep with the sticky stuff all over them, as they’re both so tired?

A rather enthusiastic and long bout of knocking at the front door makes her jolt again, almost throwing the DVD box down.

“Honey, I’m hooooome,” she can hear Tom’s voice in a high sing-song.

What. The. Hell?

The almost shouted and very enthusiastic exclamation of “It’s Daddy! That means we can finally watch something together!” by Evie almost makes Charlie flinch.

It’s been a while since they’ve been together like this, hasn’t it? She promises herself to be there more often, maybe start earlier in order to not work late?

She’s – again – interrupted by the knocking on the door. “Will you let me in?”

Charlie frowns, but doesn’t have time to contemplate the strangeness of the situation, since a not-so-tired-anymore 6-year-old runs from the sofa to the hallway.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Charlie shouts after her. “You, little Miss, won’t open the door on your own, especially not at half past 8 in the evening,” she continues as she hurries to walk after her.

Evie’s already by the front door. “But it’s Daddy,” she pouts, before one look from Charlie shuts her up.

It wasn’t easy in the beginning, especially with tears seemingly beginning to form miraculously in Evie’s eyes, but slowly Charlie becomes immune to the look both Tom and his daughter have perfected.

“Nope. You wait for me or your Daddy when there’s someone at the door.”

A massive eye-roll and sigh follow, and with crossed arms Evie waits, a foot tapping on the floor.

Charlie hides a grin by looking down and then opens the door, Evie positioning herself behind Charlie’s legs.

Tom has a big grin on his face, his cheeks are red from the cold wind – or maybe a few drinks too much – and he raises a hand to wave at them.

“Hi there.”

“Hello, Daddy!” and “Tom?” from Evie and Charlie respectively follow.

“Would the beautiful ladies of the house let me in?” he asks, the grin on his face becoming a little lopsided.

Ah, Charlie smirks. So there was a drink that’s been a bit too much. But he doesn’t seem to be in a bad state or mad at her, so Charlie decides to play along.

“Come on in. Why didn’t you use the key?”

As she and Evie both make way for him, Tom doesn’t answer, instead he swoops in, pressing both hands on Charlie’s waist and plants a surprising and maybe a little wet kiss on Charlie’s lips. Hm. Guinness. And – no, that can’t be – cigarettes?

“Couldn’t find it,” he mumbles against her lips, before they’re both interrupted by Evie going “Ew!

* * *

Half an hour later, Charlie stifles another yawn.

They got Tom inside without further interruptions and with rather too much noise. He picked up Evie to twirl her around, mumbling something about her having become much heavier in a few hours. Tom nearly ended up toppling them both to the floor because he grew dizzy but Charlie managed to avert chaos…which made Tom so grateful that he kissed her again, sloppily but very enthusiastically.

While Evie raced back to the couch, bouncing impatiently to start the movie, Charlie made Tom drink a tall glass of cold water, then downed one herself so she won’t fall asleep five minutes into ‘Moana’. It did make him less giggly but had him blink owlishly for a minute and shake his head.

With Evie snuggled up in one corner of the couch, her little legs up and hugging a cushion while she stares enraptured at the TV, Charlie is sitting in the middle, an arm looped loosely around the girl. Tom is on her left, his long legs sprawling and his head lolling ever so often.

Charlie is feeling like nodding off too–but something is keeping her from it: Tom’s wandering hands. He’s always a handsy man now that they’ve been together for quite some time, but being tipsy seems to make it worse. It started with a hand on her thigh, innocent enough, rubbing off and on. But then it trailed dangerously high and she slapped her own free hand on top of it to keep things decent. Now he’s begun nuzzling the side of her neck softly, right with his child less than a meter away.

“Tom,” she hisses quietly, but still a little sigh escapes her. She also can’t help but turn her head to him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and making Tom purr almost as much as Boots and Blanket, who are both sprawled across the second sofa. “Stop it, love.”

“Mh. Are you sure ‘bout that?”

He’s closed his eyes before, but now lifts his head to look at Charlie. She sighs again – inwardly this time – not quite sure if she should hate or love the power he’s got over her. Just one look and she’s done for.

“Maybe,” he continues with a voice that’s heavy with sleep and drink, “when we’ve put Evie to bed…” Tom doesn’t continue, but wiggles his eyebrows instead. And he’s pouting. And his hand is squeezing.

“Tom!”

A sharp “Shh!” from Evie makes both adults jerk. “There’s the best part!”

Charlie blinks, her eyes back on the TV, but if she’s honest, she’s got no idea which part of the movie they’re actually watching. But someone’s singing.

“I think,” she whispers to Tom and he hums in response, “Evie will have to tuck us in. We’ll be asleep well before her.”

Tom chuckles and then lowers his head again, his breath against Charlie’s neck sending shivers down her spine. “I’ll keep you awake,” he mumbles against her soft skin.

“Shut up!” she hisses, but the edge is missing.

“Now, you’re just being mean.”

The handsy-ness stops for a while because Tom folds his arms across his chest and pouts. It’s a look father and daughter have honed to lethal perfection, even if being tipsy means he’s sticking that lip out a bit too far and looking almost comical.

Charlie smothers a sigh in another yawn and pretends to watch the movie, staring at the TV unseeingly while considering whether she should let Tom have his way or not. Some cuddling would be nice. Lots of cuddling, in fact. She isn’t up for more and has a bit of doubt whether Tom would be ‘up’ for it either, despite his eagerness.

Something bumps against her right shoulder. Evie, no matter how in love with ‘Moana’, is losing the battle with sleepiness. Her head is resting on Charlie’s shoulder and her hands have let go of the cushion. Every few seconds, she startles and opens her eyes wide to keep watching, but it’s no use.

Charlie almost coos out loud because it’s just so adorable, but she’s also slightly envious because she wants to nod off like this too. And if Tom hadn’t had a drink too many, he would gallantly swoop her up in his arms and carry her to bed.

Well. It’s not fair to think like that. It’s her fault that she’s so exhausted, and he’s entitled to some fun with his buddies. She still hasn’t met Jamie or Matthew yet, nor their wives. Dammit, hopefully there’ll be a next time.

A sloppy, rather wet and loud kiss to the left side of her neck jolts her from her thoughts.

“Tom!” she hisses again, less fiercely.

“Pleeeeeease?” comes a whine from him before his lips wander some more.

Ha, Tom thinks, resistance is futile. He sees the way Charlie closes her eyes for a moment as his lips gracefully wander to that soft spot under her ear. Totally gracefully.

But then she sighs again. She’s sighing a lot today, and it’s not always in the ‘you make me all hot’-way Tom would love to right now.

“No, no, no,” he mumbles against her. “Don’t say it.”

Ha! Now, she’s chuckling. Tom’s getting closer to reaching his goal. “Don’t say what, Tom?”

“That we can’t.”

“Your daughter,” she deadpans.

“Oh.”

Yeah, oops, he’s kind of forgotten that. But he doesn’t have time to really pout some more, because Charlie turns her head a bit and gives him a kiss on the nose.

Maybe he purrs a little at that.

Which causes another sigh of course. “I’ll get Evie to bed, you drink another water and then I come back here, okay?”

“Whoop!”

That was a bit loud.

Charlie flinches as Evie startles and gives a tiny whimper followed by a half-sleepy, half-petulant sniffle. With a shushing sound, she gets up and leans down to scoop the nearly boneless, surprisingly heavy child into her arms.

She’s tucked Evie into bed before, of course. Sometimes they’ve done it together. Read her bedtime stories or sung lullabies or answered her thousand-and-one questions.

She takes her first a bit wobbly steps with the sleepy girl cuddled close, her own tiredness making her less sure of her movements. A glance tells her she’s at least more sure-footed than Tom, who sways alarmingly when he shoots up to accompany them, his eyes rolling and blinking until he seems to pull himself together.

They’ve managed about three steps when Tom’s giggle at almost slamming into the cupboard startles Evie half-awake again. She stares hazily at Charlie, who offers her what she hopes is a soothing smile.

“Don’ wan’ you,” she slurs, and for a moment Charlie hasn’t got the faintest clue what that’s supposed to mean. Then Evie’s voice grows whiney and her chin quivers. “Wan’ my Mama. Don’ wan’ you t’bed.”

Oh. Charlie glances at Tom while still holding on to Evie despite the little girl becoming increasingly harder to handle in her arms.

He looks alarmed and as if he’s sobered up immediately. So, he heard that too, huh?

“Evie,” he whispers, one hand steadying him on the wall, the other shooting out to touch his daughter’s shin.

“Mummy,” she mumbles now and leans back from Charlie. Her eyes hold a little moisture.

“Shh,” Charlie replies. She’s not sure what to say. Evie’s half asleep and she can’t bring Emily back. So, she walks on in the direction of little Evie’s room and hopes that she’ll lose the fight with sleep soon.

And then she’ll think about what this means later. It doesn’t happen a lot (at least not when Charlie’s here. She doesn’t know what’s going on when Evie’s alone with Tom), but of course Evie’s missing her mother.

“It’s okay, little one, I’ll just put you to bed real quick, and then your Daddy will be there, okay?”

She walks a little faster, hoping that Tom can keep it together long enough to get Evie settled in bed. And he has to, because Evie’s now so into it, that she doesn’t even let Charlie pull the blanket over her but turns around and grabs her stuffed toy.

“Want my Mama.”

Charlie sighs, swallows, and tries to keep herself from crying along.

“I’ll get her tucked in,” she hears Tom whisper from the doorway, just before he slowly makes his way into the room. His hand strokes Charlie’s lower back, before he sits down on the bed. “Shhh,” he whispers then, leaning close to Evie.

“I’ll wait outside then,” Charlie mumbles and does exactly that. She stays next to the door for a moment, leans against the wall and then makes her way slowly to the bedroom.

She knows it’s not her fault, nor Evie’s or Tom’s. But it does hurt a little in her chest anyway.

* * *

When Tom walks into the bedroom - mostly normally with a bit of a drifty sway because the last few minutes seem to have made almost all tipsiness go away - Charlie is sitting on the edge of the bed, hugging herself and looking at her feet.

His heart thumps heavily once, and Tom grimaces. Today wasn’t an easy evening. He feels drained of all the nice energy he’d had, and Charlie looks bone-tired.

When he shuffles closer, she lifts her head, and he registers the bags under her eyes and tight lines around her mouth for the first time. With a sigh, he slumps down on the bed next to her and reaches for her hand.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbles.

She just nods and returns the squeeze of his fingers.

“Does she do that often?” she asks then, so softly he can barely hear her.

Tom grimaces again. “Mmm-no. But whenever she’s ex-…exhausted. Or sick.”

Charlie nods again, the movement slow as if it costs her effort.

“She’s missing you, y’know,” Tom adds when the silence gets too heavy.

Did Charlie just flinch a little or are his senses still muddled?

What he didn’t say, but what he guesses Charlie already knows, is that Tom misses her as well.

“I’m sorry,” his girlfriend whispers then and squeezes his fingers a little tighter. Not enough to make him flinch, but so strong that it’s clear she wants to hold on to something. “I miss her too. I miss you.”

When she sniffles, Tom’s heart gives another mighty thump. He lifts their joined hands to loop one arm around Charlie’s shoulders. Then he pulls her close so that she’s pressed against Tom’s side.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s all good. I und'rstand. You’re doing a great job and all you can.”

“I’m so tired, Tom.” It’s whispered so softly against his neck that he more feels than hears it.

“I know.”

“And I really am sorry.”

“I know.”

“Cuddle?”

“Oh god, yes.”

So, they untangle themselves and Tom dashes to the bathroom in order to not wake up with the taste of Guinness in the morning. When he’s done and comes back, Charlie’s under the blankets, body turned to the middle of the bed, waiting for him.

He undressed quickly, though the buttons of his shirt are a little stubborn, and then joins Charlie in bed in just his boxers. If it wasn’t for Evie and her tendencies to sometimes wake up before them and surprise them in bed, he’d sleep naked. But as it is, he has a daughter and all is fine.

Charlie immediately shifts closer, not in a sexual way, but in a comforting one. She’s basically draped over him, and he holds her close.

“Maybe,” he whispers, “if you have time some time next weekend…”

“Saturday evening,” Charlie interrupts and then sighs contently when Tom presses a hand against her lower back and then lets it travel up and down her spine.

“Okay. Maybe we can cook with Evie and spend the evening together?”

“Yes, that’s good,” she whispers.

“Good.”

“I love you.”

Tom smiles. Yes, he’s been a bit miffed that they didn’t spend the evening as they’ve planned. But he knows they love each other, and he also knows that Charlie loves his little daughter.

“Love you too.”

* * *

Late on Saturday afternoon, Tom rummages in Charlie’s kitchen cupboards, muttering “Spatula, where are you, spatula?” under his breath.

Evie giggles and prods him in the bent back none too gently, which leads to him nearly knocking his head against the wooden door.

“Silly, Daddy, you don’t talk to it, you have to find it.”

He looks back over his shoulder, brows raised. “What, you mean to tell me the spatula won’t hear me and reveal itself? Does that mean the talking cutlery and crockery from ‘Beauty and the Beast’ was a lie???”

He makes his voice go high and tries to look shocked, which sends his daughter into another fit of giggles.

“It’s a film, Daddy,” she says with all the exasperation of someone her sassy age. “You were in films. You know it’s not all true.”

Tom heaves a sigh. “Well, there go all my hopes. How will we bake cupcakes for Charlie if we can’t find a spatula?”

Evie scuttles to his side and helps him rummage then, oh-so-eager to please Charlie. It makes his heart squeeze in his chest, how overjoyed she’s been all day for the three of them to spend some time together. She’s even bouncier than usual, and she loved his idea of surprising Charlie by arriving at her place earlier (with the help of his spare key) and baking cupcakes, though they’re planning to prepare dinner together.

* * *

One hour later they’ve found the spatula –it was in the dish washer which caused the excited thought that maybe Charlie’s used it for baking as well, they didn’t find cake though, that was a disappointment – and now the finished cupcakes are resting on the counter.

“Daddy, can I try one?” Evie stands in front of the baked goods and stares with a longing look in her eyes, her fingers itching to touch a cupcake.

Tom giggles, and his not-at-all-amused daughter shoots him a look that reminds him of Emily’s looks for him whenever he’s been sarcastic in the wrong moments. She’s more and more becoming her mum.

He smiles fondly at her. He’d like that. “Let them cool for a bit. And then maybe we can find half a cupcake that looks a bit silly that we can both try. We do need to find out, if they’re tasty enough for Charlie, right?”

So, what if he’s not acting purely selfless here? But they really want to do something nice for Charlie.

They’ve seen each other during the week, of course, but she’s always been home past Evie’s bedtime and up before her leaving for school. If she didn’t work a night shift and stayed in her own flat, that is.

She’s been tired and only wanted to curl up next to Tom it seemed. Both his girls – and him – deserve this evening.

Evie nods eagerly. “Yes. We have to give her the bestest cupcake there is.”

Tom laughs and scoops her up to carry her in the living-room where Blanket is sleeping on a chair. “And while we wait, you tell me what we’re cooking again.”

“Daddy, you should remember,” Evie answers with a roll of her eyes.

“Is it spaghetti?”

“Nooooo, it’s fish fingers and mashed potatoes, silly.”

He knows, of course. They brought the fresh fish they’re using to make the fish fingers from scratch after all. “Ah, yes. I remember now.”

“When will Charlie be here?”

From their position on the couch, they can both see the clock perfectly. It’s almost 5. “Just 15 minutes more.”

* * *

Charlie has barely finished typing the latest patient information into the database when there’s a knock on her office door. One of the pediatric nurses pops her head around the corner.

“I’m afraid they need your help in 103.” She has the grace to look apologetic when Charlie knows the only thing she looks is exhausted. It seems to be her permanent state these days but her new responsibilities are also really rewarding sometimes.

“What’s the emergency?” she asks, already half out of her chair.

“Remember the little boy with the second-degree burns? He’s not responding to his medication, and…”

“Let’s go then.” Charlie mentally runs through the information she remembers about the patient who upended a boiling pot of pasta onto himself when he tugged on it.

They make their way to his room, and for a moment all Charlie sees amid the whiteness of sheets and bandages is curly hair the exact colour of Evie’s.

She suppresses a sigh. She misses Evie. And Tom. So, so much. Tomorrow, on Sunday evening, she’ll even switch off her phone and make the most of her time with them. Maybe they’ll even make some dessert after cooking. Or bake a cake? Those two Hiddlestons with their sweet tooth…

There’s a whimper from the hospital bed and Charlie snaps to attention.

* * *

“Daddy?” They’re sitting on the sofa together, Blanket now curled up at Evie’s feet. She sounds decidedly whiny now and Tom suppresses a sigh.

But he can’t blame the little girl even a tiny bit, so instead of sounding just as whiny himself, he shoots her a hopefully encouraging smile. “Yes, munchkin?”

“The big hand is almost on the 3 now.”

Tom glances at the clock. She’s right. When Charlie didn’t show up at 5, or half past 5 for that matter, Tom told her they would wait for the big hand to reach the 3, and then start the cooking for Charlie. It’s 6.15 and she hasn’t shown up yet.

“Right.”

“I’m a little hungry and lots of sad.”

His heart clenches. He’s hungry and sad too, although Tom still can’t decide what to feel exactly. He’s been through worried, disappointed, sad, and angry. And now, he’s just not sure.

“Let’s cook for Charlie then. We can start and then she’ll be here in no time to eat with us and read you a story. She promised.”

They make their way to the kitchen – Evie in Tom’s arm – where Tom sets his daughter down on the counter. She’s quiet and biting her lip. She’s thinking hard about something.

“Daddy?” she asks again and this time, Tom does sigh a bit.

“Hm?” he asks as he gets the ingredients ready.

“Charlie is caring for the sick children, right? So, when I’m sick, Charlie will come to me, too, right?”

Angry, Tom decides then as the knife falls on the counter. It’s decided, he’ll be angry.

* * *

Half an hour later, Tom’s anger is simmering as nicely as the boiling food. Evie has her hands full of batter and crumbs while coating the fish pieces in it so that Tom can fry them. Her little tongue is poking out in concentration and she’s already gotten stuff all over her apron–but her concentration wavers ever so often to glance longingly at the clock on the wall.

Tom can hear it ticking too. Inside him. The longing on his daughter’s face breaks his heart, and then there’s his own disappointment like an acrid taste on his tongue so he doesn’t even know whether the potatoes have enough salt.

“Charlie still isn’t here,” Evie says in between some batter.

He nods, forcing himself to rely on his acting skills.

“Maybe she’s getting us something really nice for dessert and there’s a queue? Then we’ll have cake AND another dessert, whoo!”

That cheers her up a little. Tom hands her a stripe of bright red bell pepper to munch on but he can’t bring himself to eat too.

Darting another glance at the bloody clock, he gives in to the urge and wipes his hands clean. He takes his cell phone out and speed-dials Charlie…only to get her mailbox. Well, damn. Now his anger isn’t just simmering anymore.

* * *

Goodness, she needs the next night more than she’s realised, Charlie thinks on her way home. Not just because she misses Tom and Evie terribly but also because she needs to see a healthy child at the end of her day for once. And because she could do with a night she’s off work before 7.30 p.m.

Charlie parks her car on the street a few hundred yards away from her flat. At least, she doesn’t have to drive around for ten minutes to find a spot this time.

Close to her flat, Charlie stops so abruptly a girl walking behind her almost runs into her. “Sorry,” Charlie mutters, but doesn’t walk on.

She really must be tired. Tom’s car is in front of her flat. She blinks. Then blinks again, a feeling of dread filling her.

No. No, that can’t be, because they’re going to meet tomorrow. But maybe he’s here to surprise her?

Charlie doesn’t quite know what to think, but as she opens the door to her flat, registering with a start that the lights are indeed on, she can smell the tasty food they were supposed to cook tomorrow evening. It does smell like fish, doesn’t it?

Without taking her shoes or jacket off, Charlie walks straight to her kitchen. She doesn’t even let go of her purse.

There are Tom and Evie. They’re sitting at the table, an empty plate in front of Tom while Charlie can see fish fingers and mashed potatoes on Evie’s. She’s not eating in her enthusiastic way though, she’s simply picking at her fish.

They both look up when Charlie clears her throat. Oh god, oh god, are there tears simmering in Evie’s eyes?

“What…” she croaks. “What happened?”

Tom takes a deep breath, his fingers gripping the table edge so tightly that he can hear his knuckles pop.  _Don’t lose it, don’t lose it_ , he repeats like a mantra in his head.

Charlie looks like hell, to be frank. Exhausted. And confused. And now guilt is slowly edging across her features, and that only fuels his fury. They’re not an appointment at the doctor’s that one could forget. Not a reminder to pay a bill. They’re Charlie’s family, aren’t they? And family should come first. He made sure about that when he was jetting all around the globe for shoots and promos and premieres.

Before he can answer, Evie sets her fork down with a clatter, turning tear-filled eyes on Charlie that break Tom’s heart.

“You’re late.”

She doesn’t even sound accusing or pouty. Just devastated. Fuck.

Charlie blinks owlishly. Her eyes dart from Evie to Tom–and whatever expression he must be wearing makes her flinch–and to the food on the table.

He watches realization dawn, and now her face is definitely filled with guilt. And shock.

“Oh. Oh no,” she whispers, a hand rising to her mouth.

Oh no indeed.

A feeling of dread is creeping through Charlie. Making her limbs go heavy and her body hot and cold at the same time. She would like to lose her jacket and shoes now, but that can’t be her priority now.

Fuck.

Fuck it, she forgot Evie and Tom. Again.

But she was sure, really sure that they’ve said they’d meet on Sunday. Why haven’t they ever talked about that during the past week?

Charlie’s hand is shaking when she takes it away from her mouth and moves forward to reach for Evie instead. The little girl shakes her head.

“I’m so sorry, Evie. I really am. I thought that we were going to meet tomorrow.”

A snort – that sounds decidedly not humorous at all – leaves Tom, making Charlie stop and look at him instead. She can see the end of an eye-roll and how he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, to him this time, “I’m really sorry.”

“Did you forget us?” Evie asks, one tear slowly making its way down her cheek. Her lips wobble and Charlie can see the full-blown crying approaching.

She opens her mouth, then closes it again. More than once. What can she say that doesn’t break Evie’s heart?

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispers, and knows it’s the wrong thing to say when she hears Tom’s sigh. “We can eat together now, and then I can put you to bed.”

By now she’s kneeling in front of Evie while a heavy sob leaves the girl, before her face crumples and the crying begins.

Charlie’s never felt so shitty before. Fuck. She’s really hurt Evie, hasn’t she?

“I’m so sorry,” she repeatedly mumbles, reaching out to tug the crying girl into her arms. But Evie wiggles out of the hug and runs over to Tom, hurling herself into his arms instead.

Biting her lip, Charlie watches as a stony-faced Tom gathers his daughter close and rocks her, making shushing sounds. The look he sends her is so full of accusation that Charlie sinks weakly onto the just-vacated chair.

“You pro-hom-mised,” she hears Evie sob, and it breaks her heart right in two.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I really thought it was tomorrow and not today. I was just so busy…”

Tom frowns fiercely. His voice is still deadly calm but it’s the kind of calm that comes before a storm, laden with foreboding. “I know all about being so busy one can’t even remember what day or date it is,” he says with quiet anger that makes Charlie bite her lip even harder. “But that’s what reminders are for. Calendars and diaries or even phones. Work like a charm.”

Well, fuck again. The worst thing is that he’s right. She could and should have done that. And she really, really didn’t mean to forget. She shouldn’t need a reminder, dammit, because spending time with Tom and Evie makes her so happy she’s never even come close to forgetting it.

Charlie doesn’t know what to do. She apologised which – understandably – doesn’t make it any better for Evie. Or Tom, for that matter, because he’s still looking like he’s got mighty more to add and as if he’s only holding back for Evie’s sake right now.

Well. No matter what he’s got to say to her, it can’t make Charlie feel any worse.

“Do-hon’t you-you love u-hus any-more?” Evie now mumbles into Tom’s chest. Charlie hopes she’s heard that wrong, but the way Tom flinches and then rocks Evie a little more make it clear that he’s heard the words as well.

Shit. Speaking of feeling worse.

Charlie’s out of her chair before she knows it, and in two quick strides she’s kneeling next to Tom’s chair, one hand firmly placed on Evie’s back.

The action makes Tom go rigid, and this time Charlie does send him a glare. She knows she fucked up, thank you very much. But she’d appreciate it, if he’d at least give her a chance.

“Evie,” she mumbles. “Please, believe me. There’s nothing that you’ve done wrong. And it doesn’t mean I don’t love you or your Daddy anymore. This is all my fault, and this is me being very, very stupid.”

“Indeed,” Tom mumbles, making Charlie turn her head to face him, her hand still stroking Evie’s back.

“Thank you for that constructive input,” she hisses back, and immediately knows it’s been the wrong thing to say as she can see Tom’s grip on Evie gets a little stronger.

Charlie turns her head back to the little girl. “Evie, little one, I know you’re very, very sad now, and mad at me. And you should be, because I behaved really, really badly tonight.”

The little girl continues to sniffle but at least she doesn’t shrug of Charlie’s stroking hand.

“People make mistakes sometimes,” Charlie says. “Sometimes those are really stupid mistakes that shouldn’t have happened. Sometimes those mistakes hurt other people, which is even more stupid. But it happens, Evie.”

There’s the tiniest of nods. Tom, meanwhile, is huffing to himself, and suddenly among all the guilt, Charlie feels the first bit of self-righteous anger. It’s not as if she’s committed murder or something. It hurts that she’s disappointed Evie so much, and yes, Tom too. But a little understanding would be nice right now.

“I can only say sorry again,” she continues. “And hope that you’ll forgive me. If you stay here overnight, I promise you a niiice breakfast tomorrow morning. And I’m definitely going to keep that promise. Okay?”

There’s a long pause in which Tom stops rocking his daughter but doesn’t stop glaring at her.

“Okay,” comes Evie’s soft answer at last, and Charlie lets out a breath she’d been holding.

“A nice breakfast isn’t going to help the next time. Or the time after that when you forget about us again.” Tom’s icy voice slices through what little hope she has, and Charlie jerks back.

“For f-heck’s sake, Tom. I said I’m sorry.”

Eyes narrow and spitting cold fire, he holds her stare. “But are you really? Sorry? Because I am. Sorry that I got my daughter’s hopes up so high and she was so hurt that she asked me whether she needs to be sick so you’ll pay attention to her.”

Charlie can feel herself getting pale. She stumbles back while kneeling and lands on her butt. What? Evie thinks that? She ignores Tom and the daggers he’s shooting her with his eyes for a moment, and reaches out for Evie again. The little girls sniffles a little harder now.

“Evie, love, can you come here for a moment?” Charlie asks and is relieved when she nods and then scrambles from Tom’s lap to move to Charlie. She pulls Evie into her lap, and the little girl immediately buries her head in Charlie’s t-shirt.

“Please, listen to me,” Charlie says as she strokes Evie’s hair. “You won’t ever have to be sick for me to notice you. There’s nothing you did wrong, this is all on me, okay?”

She feels more than she sees Evie nodding against her.

“I’m very sorry you’re feeling this way, and I’ll try to make it better.” Another nod. “Okay. Do you want to eat something now? Did you make all the food?” Charlie tries to make her voice sound light. At this point, she’d do anything to stop Evie from crying.

“With Daddy,” Evie mumbles. “But-but the fo-hood on my plate is cold.”

Charlie cringes. And then flinches some more when she feels Tom’s stony stare on her. Yeah, well, he has to suffer in silence for a little longer, right now she doesn’t have the time to apologise to him as well.

“You can have a little more of the warm food from the pans and pots, and I’ll eat yours, okay?” Charlie mumbles in her ear.

Evie nods but doesn’t let go. Instead, she puts her arms around Charlie’s neck and her legs around her waist.

“Carry me.”

Well, she’s sitting on the floor at the moment, but she has to manage somehow, doesn’t she?

“Okay. And maybe your Daddy can put some food on your plate in the meantime.”

Charlie suppresses a curse when Tom’s chair drags over the floor as he stands up. He stalks over to the oven and doesn’t seem to mind one bit that he’s a little loud for someone just putting food on a plate. Charlie’s never seen someone scooping up mashed potatoes so aggressively.

With a sigh she asks for Evie to hold on a little tighter and then scrambles awkwardly first into a kneeling position and then to her feet. She sways a bit, probably because the last thing she’s eaten was a banana at lunch and because she’s so tired she’s basically dead on her feet.

The plate for Evie lands on the table with a thud and this time Charlie can’t hold in the sarcastic “Well, thank you,” just as Tom announces he’ll be in the living-room and stalks out.

So, Charlie sits down at the table with Evie, who isn’t letting go and can only be persuaded to at least turn around in Charlie’s lap to eat properly.

They eat, Charlie cringing a bit at the taste of too cool mashed potatoes. Maybe she deserves this.

“That’s really, really good, Evie. It tastes great,” she gushes, and hopes the little girl will eventually grace her with a smile.

“Well, thank you.”

They continue to eat in silence, Evie playing with the watch on Charlie’s arm while picking up pieces of fish. It gives Charlie all the time to listen in on Tom in the living-room. She can hear the pacing and the muttered curses and it makes her angrier and angrier.

Yes, she messed this up. But hello, ever heard of double-standards? How often did he miss lunch or dinner because he was shooting, Charlie wonders? It’s easy for the one staying at home to complain, isn’t it?

When they’re done with eating, Evie insists on Charlie reading her the bedtime story (after brushing Evie’s teeth of course), so Charlie leaves her for a minute and walks into the living-room to tell Tom.

She gets a stiff nod in return.

“Tom,” she hisses. “Just say what you want to say.”

He huffs. “Ha! No. What I want to say, I won’t do with Evie next door. Emily and I promised to not fight in front of her, and I intend to keep that up, even if you’re obviously not her.”

Charlie’s breath hitches. “Yeah. Better not say anything else then.”

Tom walks past her to tell Evie good night, and then Charlie picks up her ‘bedtime-duties’.

She’s not into it, because Tom’s words still sting.

* * *

When Charlie returns to the living-room, Tom is pacing in furious circles, nearly wearing a hole into the floor.

Yeah, he gets to pace while she needs to all but crawls on her knees and beg for forgiveness. Not fair. Yes, she’s fucked up. Yes, she feels horrible about it. But no, she doesn’t deserve being treated like that.

“We need to talk,” she says, surprised by how even her voice sounds even though she’s battling about ten different emotions on top of exhaustion.

Tom whirls and glares. “We certainly do. And I’m going to start.”

Before she can brace herself with even a fortifying breath, he hurtles on, talking himself into a real fit that makes her glad that she’s closed the door and Evie is already asleep in the other room. It’s as if he’s been bottling things up and up and now he’s exploding. Great. Just great.

“You–” he stabs an accusing finger at her “should know better than to disappoint Evie like this. I’m a big man, I can handle a bit of rejection or miss you for some days without fearing the end of the world. But my daughter can’t. She’s lost a woman who cared for her dearly once. How do you think she feels when the only other woman–apart from her aunts–who she cares for so deeply leaves her hanging. Huh? How do you think she feels about that? How do you think I fucking feel about her little heart being broken?”

“I–” That’s all Charlie says. She doesn’t know what else to say, to answer. Hell, she doesn’t even know what to think.

“Her mother left her and now you’re leaving her, and that’s not fair to her. And I won’t stand here and let it all just go without saying something to you. Hell, it’s no fucking wonder that she wanted her mother last week! With you not being here!”

Charlie blinks. Tom’s never yelled like that. And she’s certainly never seen him so angry. At least not with her, because she can easily remember those first weeks and couple of months when she got to know him. He’s been angry at everyone and anything then.

Now, he’s standing in front of her, chest heaving, eyes staring at her and that stupid accusing finger still pointed at her.

But that doesn’t mean that Charlie’s going to be his punching bag. Oh, hell no.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Tom?” He looks like he actually wants to answer. “Oh no,” she continues, her voice oddly quiet. “You don’t get to yell at me and then not letting me answer. That’s not how this works. I’ve said sorry a thousand times. I AM sorry. I apologised to Evie, I apologised to you. I can’t change what happened.”

Now, Charlie is the one pointing at him. They’re fighting, she realises with a start. This is actually the first time they’re actually fighting. She tries to make her voice hard and her finger not shaking and her eyes not stinging.

“You better think about what you’ve just said to me. Because you’re fucking unfair, Tom. You don’t get to guilt trip me like that. And you don’t get to compare me to Emily.”

Now, they’re both standing on different sides in her living-room, out of breath and staring.

Fuck.

Somehow, Charlie saying Emily’s name makes Tom pause. For a moment, he can’t breathe. Then he gulps in a few mouthfuls of air, thick with tension and burning in his lungs just like there’s been anger and hurt burning in all of his body.

It wrecked him to hear and see Evie so disappointed. Totally and completely wrecked him. Because even though a rational part of him knows that Charlie being really busy doesn’t mean they’re losing her, there’s a different part of him that is in full panic mode. And he doesn’t do panic, not anymore. Can’t afford to because he’s got to be strong for his daughter.

And so he turned disappointment and despair into something harder and lashed out. He shouldn’t have said half of the things he has, Tom realizes now that he’s paused enough to think things through.

There are tears glistening in Charlie’s eyes, and she’s vibrating with anger too. Rightly so, even if she’s fucked up and even if Tom will never forget this evening. They’re both so damn attached to Charlie now, Evie and him. Sure, she has a life that doesn’t involve them or rather doesn’t revolve around them…but for fuck’s sake, he and his daughter have only just found her, found happiness again!

He remembers the acerbic remarks his friends made during that party, about Charlie being a working woman and probably not being enough to care for Evie (and him). Remembers how staunchly he spoke in her favour, meaning it. And she does care for them, doesn’t she?

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“I didn’t quite hear that,” comes the icy reply.

“I said I’m sorry,” he repeats louder, followed by a heavy sigh. “And I mean it.”

Charlie’s seen pics of Tom as a child. And she knows Evie quite good by now as well. She knows the look Tom is giving her now. The blue puppy dog eyes that tend to make her drop everything and try to make it better for them.

But Charlie’s not just angry, she’s hurt. Those eyes won’t work their magic on her tonight.

So, she may be a bit sassy when she asks, “What exactly are you sorry for then?”

“I–” Then nothing. He simply stares at her, a pout (that is not acted for once) forming on his face and his mouth opening and closing.

“I can help you with that.” Because she’s tired, and maybe a bit bitchy. And maybe she wants Tom to be just as disappointed in himself as she is. “Are you sorry for saying I’m obviously not your dead wife? That hurt, by the way. I know we only met because she’s not here anymore. I know you’d rather be with her. No need to throw it in my face,” she says.

Charlie’s trying to stay calm, but it’s not working, because her throat is filled with little nails. At least, it feels like that.

“Charlie…” Tom takes a tentative step towards her, she immediately moves backwards.

“Or, are you sorry for playing the ‘Evie is losing you’-card? Which is just shitty, because you can’t try and make me feel guilty every time I fuck up. I’m not perfect, I’ll probably fuck up a lot more. But I feel bad enough about that without your remarks. I can’t say more than sorry and promise not to be so stupid again. But what can I say against Evie being sad about her mother? Nothing. Don’t do that, Tom. Just like I don’t throw ‘drunk and fucked up for weeks’-Tom back at you whenever you mess something up.”

Charlie breathes heavily and can’t even look at Tom anymore, whose eyes are wide and panicky. Good. Or maybe, not good. She doesn’t know.

What she does know, though, is that she’s dead on her feet. Minutes ago she wanted to yell and scream and tell Tom how frustrated she’s been, and now she just wants to sleep for days.

“What…” Tom sounds rather squeaky. Great. She can’t deal with that now. And yes, Charlie knows she’s being mean. But she’s got feelings as well. She’s the one fucking up for once. She doesn’t care.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “I’m sorry i disappointed you and Evie and I know you’re hurt. And now I’m going to bed.”

Which she does. Turns around without another word, out of the living-room and straight to her bedroom. Then she sits down on the bed and breathes deeply. What a mess.

* * *

A while later–she has no idea how long because she’s lost track of time–a dim light is on in the room, everything is quiet, and Charlie is in bed unable to sleep though she’s hardly ever felt so drained. She’s been tossing and turning and unable to clear her head. There are words she can’t unhear. Then there’s the look on Evie’s face that she can’t unsee. And her own emotional mess that she can’t untangle.

There’s a slight scratching sound and then the faintest of squeaks as her bedroom door opens.

“Charlie? Are you awake?”

Nope. Nope, she’s not going to face Tom again now. She knows he’s sorry, she’s figured that much out. But he’s been an arse. And she’s simply too exhausted to deal with any of this now. So she gives what she hopes is an authentic soft snuffling sound and pretends to be asleep. It’s a good thing she’s facing away from the door and he hasn’t switched on the proper light but she keeps her eyes closed anyway.

“Charlie?” An even softer whisper. She keeps on pretending–half-wishing he’ll go away and half-wishing he’ll hold her and make it all better, though that’s a bit of a stupid thing to wish for.

There’s the softest of touches on her hair, and then she feels the duvet being slid up higher and tucked in around her. Oh god, please don’t let her cry.

The bed dips under added weight. Has Tom sat down? Is he going to disrespect her wishes and sleep in her bed, by her side? She wants and doesn’t want that.

But there’s silence and stillness, and then Tom’s low and somewhat broken voice.

“I know you’re probably sleeping and dreaming of killing me agonizingly, but I just need to get this off my chest.” Deep breath. “I shouldn’t have treated you like this. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, somehow. And perhaps…perhaps you and I should sit down and talk to Evie. Together. Explain things so she doesn’t freak out and I don’t lose my shit in turn.”

There’s a sigh, followed by a scratchy sound that makes her think he’s running a hand down his face and beard.

“The things I said…the things I felt…they’re not fair to you. I realize that. But I’m not perfect. And I know you’re not perfect either so I shouldn’t put so much pressure on you. But Charlie, I don’t take you or your love for granted. And that’s why it hurts. Because there’s not a day that goes by when I don’t panic that I…that we…might lose you. And that’s probably fucked up and belongs in a therapy session but that’s me. So yeah… I’m so incredibly sorry.”

Yup, she’s definitely crying silent tears now. 

Tom sighs as he leans back against the headboard. He knows Charlie’s not asleep. The shaking of her shoulders gives her away, plus, she’s always been a shit actress.

But since she hasn’t said anything to him, Tom simply pretends she’s asleep as well. Makes it easier to talk to her somehow.

“I know being sorry doesn’t help you much. Especially since I didn’t give you much of a chance to be sorry as well,” he continues to whisper. “I’ve been an arse.”

And obviously, he can’t seem to shut up now that he’s started to really talk instead of all the yelling he’s been doing before.

Charlie’s shoulders are still shaking and her breathing is a little more shallow than it should be.

Great, she obviously needs some sleep and it’s his fault she can’t seem to find it. Tom’s not sure how much sleep he’ll get on the couch himself.

With another sigh, Tom strokes her back lightly with his fingertips. “I love you,” he whispers before he leans over and kisses the top of Charlie’s head. “I’ll be on the couch then,” he adds in hopes of her maybe changing her mind.

He hesitates for a moment and then gets up. “I’ll help you with breakfast in the morning.”


	2. Family Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're definitely making up...

Charlie hasn’t slept at all.

Well, okay, that’s not entirely true. Some time after Tom left yesterday night she fell asleep, exhausted as she was.

And then she woke up maybe two hours later. And that was it. She needed to use the bathroom and tiptoed out of her room, heard shuffling from the living-room, and basically ran to the bath.

From then on it’s been lots of tossing and turning, and even more thinking and wondering what would happen next.

Charlie knows there won’t be a break-up. Not over something like this. They’ve been through so much, this won’t end them. But something needs to change. And she’s got no idea if Tom feels the same.

Bleary eyed Charlie glances at the clock on the nightstand. 6.14. She sighs. That’s not what she had planned for today.

But it doesn’t matter, because she’s promised Evie a breakfast. Knowing her, Charlie now has two hours to prepare. Maybe she could go out and buy croissants? The little girl loves them.

Coffee first, Charlie decides. She slipped into jogging pants and a t-shirt yesterday, so this is how she leaves her room.

Again, she tiptoes as she passes the living-room and then enters her kitchen. After preparing and then switching on the coffee maker she leans on the counter. As she looks to her left, she sees that there are still cupcakes on the stove.

God. Last night’s been a mess.

* * *

God, last night’s been a mess.

Tom rubs his gritty eyes. He didn’t catch more than a couple of hours of sleep, and not just because he’s simply too long for anything but a bed. He’s thought and thought and worried and worried. And he’s feeling rather cowardly but knows he has to face the music.

With a muffled groan, he turns to look at the clock on the wall. Yikes, that’s early. Well, almost as early as when he needs to get Evie ready during the week. Sounds from the kitchen tell him that Charlie’s awake.

Will she admit that she’s heard him?

In stages and with more groaning and even a whimper because he’s certainly not twenty anymore, Tom unfolds himself from the couch, stretches and rubs at his stiff neck. Bathroom first or confrontation first?

He should probably help Charlie with the mess from last evening that nobody bothered with.

Confrontation first, then.

Tom shuffles into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway at the dejected look on Charlie’s face as she stares at left-over cupcakes.

“Hey,” he croaks, startling her. “Before anything else, can I just say again that I’m sorry? And that I want to make it up to you?”

* * *

She stares at him for a while, and Tom feels more nervous and scrutinised than he’s ever felt during any audition.

Then Charlie huffs, shakes her head a little, crosses her arms and ankles and finally looks down at her feet in front of her.

That’s not a good start.

“I know,” she mumbles. “You said so many times yesterday.”

Tom doesn’t know if he should dare to feel happy because she’s actually talking to him, or if he should be panicking because she sounds so sad. A hopeful panic, maybe? Also, was that an admission of hearing him in bed last night?

“But no matter how sorry you are, things need to change,” she continues and Tom’s heart stops for a moment, before beating in record time. Okay. It’s only going to be panic then.

“Charlie–” Her raised hand stops him from talking and has him rooted in the doorway.

Then she looks back up at him, eyes set, but a little more watery than Tom would like. “You can’t do that to me every time we fight. I know I wasn’t doing my best yesterday, but I don’t think I deserved that. We’ll fight again eventually, you can’t always lash out at me like that.”

“I know, I know. That’s what I said last night. Something like that at least. I shouldn’t do that to you. I’m going to change that. I can change that. Tell me how I can make you feel better? Today?” He knows he’s rambling. But if she can’t talk, she can’t break up with him, right?

Charlie shrugs, looking at her feet again. “Don’t know.”

And she really doesn’t. On the one hand, she knows that both of them really did fuck up, really are sorry and really can’t do more than apologize. On the other hand, she has this nagging doubt that words just won’t be enough. They’ll have to walk the walk, not just talk the talk. But how?

With a small sigh, she clings tighter to her coffee mug and takes a sip. Tom makes a beeline for his own cup, takes two scalding mouthfuls and then begins dashing around her kitchen so fast it’s giving her whiplash.

So what he said last night is true; he’s going to help her. Well, that’s a start. Charlie sips some more while Tom whirls here and there. Somehow, only fifteen minutes later the chaos from last evening is mostly cleaned away. The dishes are in the dishwasher, the cupcakes on a platter to be devoured later, and there’s batter for pancakes.

“I’ll make them,” she says softly, deciding to meet Tom half-way.

A bit of morning routine won’t erase shouted words and stinging accusations or assuage guilt but it’s a small first step.

And there’s Evie to think about–who chooses exactly that moment to call “Daddy” from ‘her’ room. Tom and her exchange a glance. It’s unlike her to call for him. She’s reached that age where she insists on being ‘big enough’ to do most of the daily routine herself. Has last evening really affected her so much?

“I’m going to check on her,” Tom says before he looks at Charlie again. She’s biting her lip and looks guilty. Is she worrying it’s her fault? “Or do you want to come check on her with me?”

Charlie’s eyes meet his. “Maybe you should go alone. She asked for you after all.”

With a small nod Tom leaves and pads down the hall. When he opens the door to the room that was once just Charlie’s office but is now deemed Evie’s room, his daughter is sitting on her bed, rubbing her eyes. The blanket is clutched tightly in her hand.

“Good morning, munchkin,” he whispers. Mostly because his voice is raw and because it’s way too early.

“Daddy, is Charlie still there?”

If the sentence alone didn’t tug on his heart strings, her wobbly voice certainly would. This time he feels just as guilty as Charlie yesterday.

He walks into the room and sits on the bed. Charlie did a great job with this. It’s a smaller bed than at home, but one wall is now painted in pink and there are Disney princesses everywhere. Charlie’s desk and books make up only the small wall of the room now.

Tom gulps. How could he have eveb thought these things yesterday? It’s clear how much Charlie cares for his daughter.

“Of course, Charlie is here,” he finally answers as Evie climbs in his lap and snuggles up to him. Tom rubs her back. “It’s her flat.”

“But it’s always her flat and yesterday she wasn’t there. And then I had a bad dream and she wasn’t there. Can I see her?”

Oh, shit. “Of course,” he says instead. He picks her up, taking the blanket along and stands up.

“Hey again,” Tom mumbles again as they reach the kitchen where Charlie is leaning against the counter again. “Someone here wanted to see you.”

Charlie attempts a nonchalant wave and uncertain smile, feeling another stab of guilt at the way Evie, a burrito in her blanket, is clinging to Tom and frantic to see her.

“Good morning, Evie.”

A tentative smile. “G’ morning, Charlie. You’re not going now, right? We can have breakfast together?”

Oh, Evie. Stomping down on her shame, though she knows it isn’t exactly her fault, Charlie nods vigorously.

“Pancake breakfast together, promise.” She points her spatula at the food.

“Pancakes!” Evie brightens a bit more, snuggling into Tom’s embrace as he attempts a smile too.

Charlie decides to explain the whole thing a bit better to the little girl, now that she’s not hurt or sulking or sleepy anymore. “I won’t always be late or forget things. You know that, right? But we had an emergency. Well, several emergencies.”

“There are always ‘mergencies,” Evie says with a quiet sniffle.

Well, can’t argue with that. Charlie searches for a reply to that. “That’s true. It’s kind of what we doctors do, isn’t it? Be there for people when there’s an emergency.”

That earns her a nod, then a concentrated frown. “If you miss someone so much that it hurts in your chest, is that an emergency?” Evie asks, hitting a fist against her blanket-covered torso.

Fuck. Charlie sees Tom flinch while her own heart hurts. She has to blink a bit and clear her throat. “I guess, yes. I don’t have medicine for that, Evie. I’m doing an important job. But I promise you I’ll try not to miss me so much again.”

Another nod, after a while. The child holds out her hand. “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.” Charlie walks over and hooks fingers with her. She feels Tom shift his hold on his daughter as his arm briefly loops around her side to squeeze her closer. She really does want them to spend more time together.

All of a sudden, Charlie has an idea.

“Tell you what, why don’t I fulfil that promise and go on a short holiday with you and Daddy, Evie? Just the three of us, somewhere nice and warm. Ice cream and games and more ice cream.”

The girl’s face lights up as if it’s Christmas, which hits her right in the heart again. Tom’s fingers flex against her waist. She seeks out his gaze and he looks away for a moment, taking a deep breath. When he looks back, his eyes are as pleading as Blanket’s when he wants a treat. And where the hell is Blanket anyway? Her cat sure knows how to make himself scarce when there’s a conflict brewing… Tom’s voice when he speaks is serious and sincere, contrasting the longing in his gaze.

“I understand that you’re busy. And…needed. You don’t have to do this if it’s a problem. Not for our sake.”

So he’s trying. But so is she.

“I want to. Let’s do this. Let’s go on a holiday together!”

* * *

And so, that’s what they do.

Charlie leans back in her chair, sips on her red wine, and sighs. A happy sigh, a content one this time.

It was a bit awkward that Sunday two weeks ago, at first. They made the pancakes and ate mostly in silence. They’ve all been tired and it took a while for Evie to start babbling away about all the things that had happened in school the week before.

Eventually, the words they’d yelled on Saturday hadn’t hurt that much anymore, and Charlie and Tom exchanged hesitant smiles whenever Evie said something funny.

They’d eventually get there.

And then Charlie made good on her promise. A co-worker has a house – a very nice and remote house – in Majorca. And since it’s May there are still some days free for Charlie, Tom, and Evie to spend there.

Tom’s told her probably five times that it would be okay, if Charlie couldn’t make it this fast. If they planned a little more. But no. Charlie has taken three days off, and now, two weeks after the big fight, they’re enjoying five days on the island and Emma takes care of the cats at home.

It’s their second night – Sunday – in the house and so far they’ve indeed eaten ice cream and played games all day. They’ve taken Evie swimming on the beach – a little more private part of Majorca than the party area of course. No Palma for them but the calmer northern part of the island.

Tom and Evie are sitting in front of her, enjoying the late lunch/early dinner, and Charlie couldn’t be happier she took those three days off and doesn’t have to be back at work before Thursday night.

Evie is munching on a piece of bread that’s been left from their starters and then looks at Charlie.

“You’re all smiley, Charlie!”

Tom looks up from where he’s cutting the last of Evie’s meat as well. “You are.” He’s too.

She feels herself smile a bit more, then blushes. “I am.”

God, it’s good seeing Charlie smile so much. Not just good, no. Fantastic. Everything he’s hoped for.

Tom sits back after finishing his task, looking at Charlie. He’s been doing that a lot ever since they came here. Staring, studying, glad for every little line of tension that slowly eases and every tiny sign of happiness. It’s bliss, this short holiday in Majorca.

Sure, they’ve been out and about together before. They took Evie to the zoo and a dozen other places. Spent weekends at his mother’s place, his sisters’ places and Charlie’s parents’ place. But this is their first time together abroad and for more than two-three days. And though they’ve started with a bit of awkwardness, they seem to be back almost where they were before her promotion.

He can feel Charlie relax, and he can certainly feel Evie having the time of her life. She’s even bouncier and more eager than usual, which in turn makes him bouncier and more eager than usual. It’s something Charlie’s noticed too, telling him with a mock eye roll that she hadn’t planned on managing an over-excited flea circus during her days off–but he got a kiss after that comment, so it’s all fine.

In fact, he’s stolen and received quite a few kisses ever since they’ve settled down in this holiday home. And he’s beginning to long for a LOT more than that.

A glance to the side tells him that his daughter is now busy devouring her neatly cut meat while Charlie is looking out at the view. Slowly, he sneaks his foot closer under the table and rubs it over her ankle and up her calf. Charlie jolts, her head shooting towards him as he sends her what he hopes is a slow grin full of promises.

He enjoys seeing a blush creep up Charlie’s chest and then colouring her cheeks. She takes another sip of her red wine, widens her eyes, and Tom grins a bit more.

Of course he knows – he is an adult after all – that sex isn’t everything in a relationship. He also knows that he and Charlie have so much more together.

But Tom also knows that he’s missed the playful times ever since the promotion. The playful and sensual times that they’ve shared. Oh, and he simply misses Charlie’s body.

They’d have to be quiet in the house with Evie sleeping on the same floor as them. Or maybe they could take a swim in the pool when Evie’s in bed upstairs? Or stay in the living-room downstairs with Evie in her room? They’d have to lock the door then, though. No repetition of the early days, he’s been mortified by those close and even closer calls.

Tom shifts in his seat, hoping to tug on his cargo shorts subtly enough for Evie not to notice and Charlie to notice so much more. Especially since he lets his foot travel a bit higher to the inside of her knee. He loves Charlie in summer dresses.

It works, as Charlie is now spluttering, before she puts down her wine glass and takes a drink of water instead.

Tom chuckles. They’re relaxed, indeed.

Though somehow, he’s relaxed and not relaxed. Because how’s a man supposed to relax when Charlie enjoys their private pool in only a bikini? Seriously, he deserves all the medals for not jumping her right there in the water, watching daughter be damned. He may have dived a bit more often than necessary to try and cool down.

Trying to forget the way too hot image of Charlie’s scantily clad, now nicely tanned body, Tom gulps down some water too.

“Daddy?”

He blinks, returning to Evie and reality.

“Yes, munchkin?”

“Can I have that swirly, colourful ice cream thingy again for dessert?”

Yes, she can have that for dessert and he can have Charlie for dessert. Whoops, wrong thought to have if he’s planning on getting up from this chair any minute now.

Blinking some more, he nods. “Okay, but only because we’re on holiday and eating ALL THE ICE CREAM.”

With that, he jumps up from the table and holds a hand out to Charlie, who’s smiling indulgently while Evie shots a triumphant “all the ice cream”.

“May I request your help in the complicated task of getting Miss Evie’s princessly sundae right, Ma’am?” he asks in an exaggerated voice, making his daughter and Charlie giggle.

“You may.”

And so Tom all but drags Charlie into the well-stocked kitchen with him, making sure to close the door before he crowds her against the fridge. He sends a heated gaze at Charlie before he nuzzles her hair and neck and feels her shiver once.

“Not sure you can get the ice cream ready if you’re blocking the freezer door,” she protests feebly, her hands automatically looping around his neck.

Tom draws back enough to hold her gaze. “I’m planning on tasting something much sweeter than ice cream, so don’t mind the door.”

He watches her eyes widen and the tip of her tongue dart out before he swoops in for a kiss full of naughty–and sweet–promises.

Charlie moans into the kiss, then presses Tom’s mouth closer to her and simultaneously her hips closer to him.

God, she’s missed this. She knows it’s partly her own fault, because she’s been so tired and busy all the time. But she and Tom didn’t have sex a lot these last couple of weeks, and she’s really, really missed having these little sexy times with Tom.

This – not so slowly but very fast – turns out to be a heavy make-out session instead of getting Evie’s ice cream.

Hands wander – Charlie’s up and down Tom’s neck and tangling in his hair, and his on Charlie’s waist and hips –, tongues meet, hips bump into each other, and breaths mix.

Charlie is blissful, her mind occupied, and she really wants to drag Tom even closer, hop on the counter and let him have his way with her. But something stops her, even though what Tom’s doing with his tongue and hands nearly sends Charlie over the edge without shedding a single item of clothing.

Evie!

“Tom,” she mumbles against his lips.

“No.”

She laughs a bit. “You don’t even know what I want to say.”

“Don’t want to,” her boyfriend answers as he stops kissing her but attaches his lips to her neck.

“We can’t here… Evie… we…” Ugh. She just can’t think with him doing that thing with his hips.

And that’s when she hears the rapid knocks on the door followed by the little girl’s voice. “Daddy! Charlie! I want ice cream! And the beach! Can we go to the beach? Daddy? Charlie?”

* * *

And because it’s their holiday, they do end up on the beach after the ice cream.

Charlie watches Evie as she bounces around with some other children who are also too giddy to sleep. There’s an animator who entertains the group by making animals out of balloons, and their little girl is so enraptured that it’s adorable.

Relaxing, Charlie gets more comfortable on her chair and tunes in to Tom ordering two drinks in Spanish. Why is that so sexy, dammit? Why is everything about him so sexy? And why hadn’t she noticed it that much during the past few weeks? Was she really that busy?

God, he looks waaay too handsome in his washed-out jeans and almost see-through white V-neck t-shirt. Good enough to eat.

Great, now thoughts of nibbling on him like she just did on an ice cream cone have her flustered. It’s a good thing there’s low lighting in the beach bar.

Tom strolls back with two glasses in his hands, a fruity cocktail with only a little alcohol in it for her, his signature Gin & Tonic for himself.

“To what shall we drink? Naughty adventures to come?” He tries to give her a saucy wink but ends up scrunching his face up in that cute way of his.

Charlie clinks glasses anyway, feeling a flush of heat. “And what adventures might those be?”

The gaze Tom sends her is downright smouldering. “Well, there’ll be some exploring first, of course.” His hand lands on her thigh, his fingers stroking the place where her dress has ridden up. “All the slopes and curves and hidden crevices. As one would do on an island adventure.”

Charlie takes another sip of her drink, almost choking on it. It’s hot in here, isn’t it?

They’re interrupted by the perpetually cheerful barman with his charming high-wattage smile.

“Is-a no good to drink a cocktail on Mallorca evening,” he tuts, setting down a glass in front of her with a flirtatious smile. “Beautiful women-a coming to our island must-a drink Hierbas.”

Charlie feels herself blush and lowers her gaze. That way the barman – probably somewhere in his mid-fifties, though it’s hard to tell with the tanned skin – winks at her paired with the warm air and Tom’s hand on her thigh sends her body in overdrive.

“Here. Drink. It’s on the house,” he continues and Charlie does look up now, simply to tell him she doesn’t drink.

“I don’t…”

But the barman shakes his head. “I insist! Beautiful lady like you deserves-a beautiful drink.”

Oh, god, he’s flirting while she sits next to her boyfriend. He must see she’s with someone, right? Charlie can’t even look at Tom. What if this evening goes downhill fast? He’s not the best at sharing. Not that he’d have to.

“That’s very nice of you, but I’m here with my boyfriend,” she starts, gesturing vaguely at Tom. “I can’t accept.”

“It’s-a just a drink,” he answers with a heavy Spanish accent. “It’s-a two drinks even! We have sweet and strong. You look sweet and strong,” the barman continues as he pours another of those dark green-brown drinks. And much to her horror, he then fixes his gaze on Tom. “Sweet or strong?”

Oh, oh. Charlie looks down at Tom’s hand that squeezes her thigh and then at his face. Maybe she can calm him down?

And then she stops. He’s grinning? At the other man? Huh?

And then he laughs. “Both. Definitely both. Sweet and strong. She should try both.”

“Tom…”

Now both men are openly laughing at her.

“Go on,” Tom says. “You get free drinks and we’re on holiday. And you  _are_  a beautiful woman. You deserve all of the drinks.” He changes his position a bit and grabs Charlie’s hand. “Maybe I can even get you to dance.”

* * *

Quite some time later, Evie is still with her group of new-found friends, all of them now listening to a goodnight story read by the animator in Spanish and English. Tom and Charlie are on their second glass of the Hierbas liqueur and feeling the buzz. Or at least he is.

And okay, maybe Charlie is too. Because he can’t remember her ever being so giggly and smiley. She’s also gesticulating more while talking–they’re discussing seafood and he has no idea how they’ve arrived at that topic–and playing with her hair. All that does it amp up Tom’s arousal because she’s glowing and open and so freaking sexy.

And alright, he may have become quite handsy though he’s not as tipsy as Charlie is, and also keeping an eye on his daughter. He can’t help it, he just needs to touch his girlfriend. The barman seems to understand, or at least he sends Tom winks and agrees that she’s way too beautiful.

He needs her in his arms. Now. And there’s only one way to do it because neither Evie nor Charlie seems to want to retire yet.

“Let’s dance,” he blurts out.

“What?” Charlie stops mid-sentence to blink at him, then giggle adorably.

“Let’s dance.  _Vamos a bailar_ ,” he adds in his best Spanish accent, gets up and holds out his hand. When to his pleasant surprise, she takes it and rises from her seat, he twirls her once.

There’s soft music playing in the bar and one couple already swaying to the beat, bare feet in the sand. Tom pulls Charlie along and then finally has a good excuse to wrap her in his arms and tug her close. With a small, blissful sigh, he rests his chin on top of her head and moves slowly with her.

Charlie breathes in Tom’s scent that’s somehow different on this holiday. It’s still lots of Tom’s spicy cologne, but also saltwater, sunscreen and at the moment a hint of vanilla on his breath. And anise and herbs because of the Hierbas.

Those freaking drinks. She sways with Tom as the world swirls around her a little bit, squeezing his waist with both of her arms feeling Tom’s arms around her shoulder grip tighter.

Charlie chuckles a bit. “I can’t dance,” she mumbles into Tom’s chest.

A laugh rumbles through him, she can feel it vibrating against her. “You’re doing pretty great. We’re dancing.”

“Haha,” she grins and slaps his waist with one hand. The grin becomes a chuckle and then a laugh when Tom’s arms lose their grip on Charlie’s shoulder and wander down her body.

He drags her closer still, his hands now slowly inching towards her arse. They’re still moving in a small circle, at least until Tom suddenly – or not so suddenly, because maybe Charlie’s just too lost in the moment – lets go and moves away, still holding one of her hands in his, swirling her around once more.

She can’t help but giggle as she stumbles a bit, but is in Tom’s arms a second later. “I love you,” she mumbles.

“I love you too.”

They enjoy each other’s company – and bodies, becauee whoo, Tom’s definitely comfortable with her, which gets Charlie all hot and bothered as well – for a few moments longer, before Charlie hears what seems to be the sound of lots of little running feet.

And indeed, a few seconds later, Charlie feels a tug at her dress. She looks down to see Evie standing before them, rubbing her eyes a bit.

“Daddy, can I have something to drink, please?”

And so they make their way back to the bar, Charlie’s hand firmly in Tom’s, Evie walking on his other side and talking and re-telling what seems to be the entire good-night-story.

Another glass of Hierbas is waiting for her as Charlie sits down, accompanied by a wink of the barman. She chuckles, rolls her eyes, and just takes a sip.

Tom is sitting opposite her again, this time with Evie in his lap.

“Why do you look so sexy with a child on your lap? S not fair!” Charlie hears herself blurt.

Whoops, that should have been a thought, not said out loud. Because he does look unfairly tempting like this, with a slight sheen of sweat, his hair tousled from her hands, his eyes gleaming and his strong hold on Evie making muscles in all the right places stretch taut.

Tom’s brows rise high on his even higher forehead, which somehow makes her giggle. Okay, so she’s tipsy. Yay her. She hasn’t been buzzed in wayyyy too long. But she isn’t drunk, no sir. And she’s aroused as hell, which makes her head even lighter.

“Um, thanks for the compliment, I guess,” Tom finally says with a Cheshire cat grin. “Not that I mean to be unfair.”

“What does sexy mean?” the little girl interrupts, and Charlie wants to swallow her tongue. Where’s a hierbas glass when she needs one? Blushing, she fidgets with a napkin on the table while Tom splutters.

“It’s…um…uh…another word for beautiful that men sometimes use for women they’re in love with. A special kind of beautiful.” he finally manages.

Evie nods solemnly and rather sleepily. “One that makes you want to kiss Charlie?”

Blushing even more fiercely, Charlie wants to vanish under the table, become a grain of sand. Tom can’t quite keep his mouth from twitching.

“That’s exactly right.” Leaning forward as if it’s the most natural thing in the world–and maybe now it is because they’re definitely together–he plants a quick, comparatively chaste kiss on her mouth.

Evie must be really tired because there’s no ‘eeewww’ coming from her, but Charlie hears herself giggle again.

“Time for bed.” Tom decides. He hasn’t even used his growly voice he reserves for her but his choice of words makes everything flutter and clench inside Charlie nevertheless.

Yes. Bed. Please.

* * *

They make their way back to the house. After lots of goodbyes and suggestive winks and even more grins that the barman – should they get his name? – has sent them.

If Charlie thought that Tom’s sexy with Evie in his lap, she simply hasn’t been prepared for Tom carrying her. Okay, she’s seen that image in front of her quite a bit. But somehow tonight he’s even sexier.

Damn those drinks.

Anyway, Tom has Evie in his arms, the little girl resting her head on his shoulder. With his free hand he holds Charlie’s hand tightly, almost as if he’s afraid she can’t walk in the sand.

And he’s a bit right. Charlie giggles and holds on tighter to the shoes in her one hand and on Tom’s fingers in her other. Hierbas makes one stumble in the sand, apparently.

“Are you okay?” Tom asks, looking at her. His lips are twitching and his eyes are sparkling. He’s trying not to laugh at her, isn’t he?

“I’m peachy, thank you very much,” Charlie grins back. She looks at Evie and then up at Tom’s face. Leaning in, she whispers, “Thinking about maybe going for a swim in the priv’t pool when the little one sleeps. But I think my bikini’s still wet,” she whispers against Tom’s ear and then nibbles on it.

Now, Tom’s the one who’s stumbling in the sand. Ha! “Who’s tipsy now?” she breathes and then grins.

Yeah, he does feel kind of ‘love-drunk’, Tom admits. Charlie’s radiant–not that she isn’t most of the time, but she has that special holiday glow–and irresistible and she’s flirting much more than he’s used to.

Slipping into auto-Dad mode, he manages to carry Evie safely inside even though Charlie keeps brushing her body against his and sending him come-hither looks beneath her lashes. Although his daughter seems absolutely knackered, he insists on a wash. Sand in the sheets is not nice. Usually, Charlie helps. Today, she sits on the tub’s rim, swaying a bit and watching everything with intense concentration. He thinks he hears her mutter ‘not fair, sexy doing all the daddy stuff too’ and promptly drops the sopping washcloth onto his foot.

What feels like an eternity later, Evie is in bed, the ceiling fan switched on and the dim night light on as well. She hasn’t even asked for another bedtime story because she already got one by the beach. Tom stands and watches her even breathing, then feels Charlie sidle up closer and slip her hand into his.

“Pool?” she whispers, and he suppresses a groan.

“Not a good idea,” he mumbles back softly, but he’s already being pulled away.

“Best idea!” This whispered shout is a bit loud but Evie’s down for the count.

Letting go of his hand, Charlie sway-runs ahead–and suddenly begins tugging off her clothes.

Tom nearly swallows his own tongue, then remembers to follow when she’s almost by the terrace door that leads to their walled-in private pool.

“Charlie!” he hisses. “What in god’s name are you doing?”

She twinkles at him. “Why, getting undressed, Mr. Hiddleston. Told you, no b’kini, but I wanna swim.”

Christ, she’ll be the death of him!

She stops her movements for a moment when she sees the frown on Tom’s face deepen.

“You’re drunk. You can’t go swimming. What if you drown?”

Charlie’s not able to fully suppress the groan and huff, but she makes her way back to where Tom is standing. His eyes roam over her body – now, only clad in a bra and panties – sending tingles all over her.

She takes his hand and leans close. “’m tipsy. Not drunk,” she mumbles. “Evie’s fast asleep. Nobody can see. I want you. Now, there won’t be much swimming to cause any drowning, if you just get naked as well and join me. Save me,” she winks.

Before Tom can react – verbally, because yes, Charlie’s had a bit to drink, but she can still read her boyfriend, and those muscles are hard – Charlie steps back and turns.

There’s still a sway in her steps and it’s a little more difficult that she’d like to admit to simply get her bra undone, but she manages. Almost without giggles even.

“Tom,” she taunts from the terrace and looks back at him. He’s biting his lip and adjusting his shorts. The sweat is more prominent on his forehead, and he glances back to Evie’s room. “Live a little.”

Charlie loses her panties right in front of the pool. The night air is a little cooler, but by no means cold. She hisses then moans as the even slightly cooler pool water hits her calves.

Huh. Taking the steps might be a bit unsexy, she thinks a moment later. She moves around the pool to the deeper side.

“Charlie, what…?” is the last hiss she hears before she winks and dives headlong into the water.

* * *

Yikes, that IS rather cool. Or maybe she’s hot? Yup, definitely hot and bothered and it’s all Tom’s fault.

Charlie resurfaces, feeling decidedly less tipsy now but still mighty aroused. Because now Tom is standing at the edge of the pool, hands on his hips and face in a stern glare and that does things to her. Honestly, anything and everything he does or says does things to her these days…

She kicks her feet and approaches.

“Well, now I’m even wetter,” she croons in what she hopes is a seductive purr.

There’s enough light to see Tom swallow convulsively. He scans the area–she’s not worried about being seen–and glares at her again.

“Charlie, do you really think this is a good idea?”

She nods vigorously. “But you’re too far away. Don’t be a chicken, Tom, come in. See for yourself how…wet I am.”

Oh, nice, that’s a suppressed groan she can hear. Then a muttered curse. Tom squats, and the way his thigh muscles look now makes her shiver. He holds out a hand.

“Come out of there, love. Then we’ll do something about all that…wetness.”

Yay, he’s going with her puns. Winking, Charlie swims closer still until her feet hit the ground. Tom’s eyes all but burn holes into her when he stares at her breasts rising out of the water as she stands.

Charlie takes his hand–and yanks, putting all her body’s weight into it. With a startled yelp of ‘fuck’, Tom tumbles forward and falls into the water with her.

She can’t hold back the laugh when Tom resurfaces, spluttering and with his hair plastered on his head and face.

The laugh becomes a moan when he stands taller and whipes his face with strong, big hands, though.

Tom’s shirt is pressed so tightly against his upper body, there’s nothing left to Charlie’s imagination. Damn him.

He blinks at her, looking a bit like a lost, wet puppy. But his eyes sparkle and his mouth is twitching.

“Charlie.” It’s a low growl that goes straight to her core. “What did you do?”

She’s unsure, if she should be sassy, or afraid, then decides on sultry, because the way Tom looks at her and can’t keep his eyes from her chest would make her drop her panties – if she hadn’t dropped them by the pool moments ago.

“You looked all hot,” she whispers back. Then moves towards him. “And bothered.”

He swallows. And comes closer. Suddenly his arm shoots out and pulls Charlie to him. They’re pressed against each other, and her breathing stutters.

“You’re naughty tonight, aren’t you?” Tom whispers and nuzzles her neck, pressing Charlie’s naked body tightly to him. “Is it the Hierbas?”

Charlie nuzzles closer, driving away the sudden cold Tom felt from the water and turning it into heat so intense he’s surprised there’s no steam rising.

“No, most of the Hierbas is now out of my system, I think,” she croons, fluttering her water-spiky lashes a bit too much. “But you’re not out of my system. Tom…” She bites her lip. “I want you. So much.”

Well, hell. Now he feels even hotter. Should’ve just imitated Charlie and dived in naked. But then he probably wouldn’t survive the way she is rubbing herself against him. Consciously? He’s not sure but he’s sure of one thing: if she doesn’t stop that soon, he’ll embarrass himself. He’s desired her all evening yet tried to be the responsible one. But now she seems less tipsy and even needier and fuck if that isn’t messing with him.

“Charlie.” It comes out as a moan. “I want you too, but…”

She shakes her head resolutely, dousing them in water drops and wriggling even more against him so he hisses and clamps his arms tighter around her.

“No. No but. Not today.”

For the life of him, he can’t think of a reason to protest. And so he does what he’s been dying to do all along and kisses Charlie.

She immediately opens beneath his mouth and their tongues tangle. Is that low sound her moan or his? He hasn’t got a clue but dimly realizes that his hands are wandering and he’s currently grabbing a butt cheek while the fingers of his other hand are tangled in her wet hair.

Jesus, if he doesn’t stop now, it’ll be over before it’s really begun. He keeps kneading her flesh but slows the kiss. Making himself break the connection, Tom trails his lips across the drops of liquid on her arched-back throat, not even minding the taste of chlorine.

Charlie feels decidedly more dizzy, her head swimming. And it’s not the alcohol. At this point she almost doesn’t care what Tom does to her as long as he doesn’t stop.

He’s kneading her and leaves wet marks and nips all over her throat. She can still feel him hesitating though.

Why does he always think so much?

Charlie’s hands wander, tangling in Tom’s hair, tugging.

With a moan his head snaps up, and his eyes, pupils blown wide, search for hers. “Let me take you to bed,” he whispers.

Charlie shakes her head. Somehow she wants something else. Something more, although she’s almost too aroused to really think. The way Tom’s groin presses against Charlie’s naked core has her gasping his name.

“Here. I need you. Now.” Her words seem to have the desired effect, as suddenly his mouth is attached to hers again, their tongues fighting for dominance, Tom growling into her mouth.

And then she pushes him back, still in Tom’s grasp. He doesn’t seem so keen on taking her inside now, but taking her in other ways, as he moves willingly.

“You’re too dressed,” she whispers against Tom’s mouth when they reach the edge of the pool, his back pressed against it.

So, Charlie’s hands both reach for Tom’s jeans, plastered on his hips. It’s a little strange, undressing him under water with shaking hands and shivering body. But she’s up for the challenge. Tom is as well, judging by the bulge he’s sporting and which her hands keep brushing up against as she makes quick work of the zipper and buttons.

“I missed you,” she whispers, before diving in for another kiss, as if they’re not both panting enough as it is.

“I missed you too,” Tom manages to reply when they break the kiss to actually get some air into their lungs. “So, so much.”

“Show me how much.”

Charlie’s rubbing herself against him again, and now that he’s bare it’s so much worse. She hops, buoyed by the water, and loops her legs around his waist. It’s all he can do to try and widen his stance for balance–nearly impossible with water-sodden trousers trapped somewhere low on his thighs–and not dump them both into the water. Grateful for the pool’s edge behind him, Tom holds on to her delicious curves and sinks his teeth into her neck to hold her still. But it only makes her wriggle more.

“Charlie.” It’s a groan more than a warning. Tom nips her neck, then licks the spot to soothe it. Her low moan travels straight to where he really doesn’t need any more encouragement.

Deciding that hoisting her up will not only remove the danger of her just sinking down onto his hard length but also have the added benefit of bringing her floating breasts closer, Tom shifts his hands to her butt and boosts her. Now she’s rubbing against the ridges of his stomach, and he can finally get his mouth on her luscious boobs.

He sucks a pebbled nipple and feels Charlie’s nails dig into his shoulder on another moan.

“Don’ need…foreplay,” she forces out between pants. “Already wet.”

Well, fuck.

Tom can’t articulate much more than that ‘fuck’ in his head. Because for sentences you’d need your blood in your brain, and not somewhere else.

So, he decides to go for a pained groan.

He can’t. He won’t last longer than two minutes, and Charlie deserves more than a quick fuck in a pool.

But she continues to rub against him, and to dig her nails deep, and – much to his horror – to try and wiggle lower again.

“Charlie.” Tom is panting, and this is going to be so embarrassing. “You need to… I need to… won’t last. Make you cum.”

Charlie’s answers are tiny whimpers and the way she’s tightening her legs around him. The little “please” that accompanies the actions nearly sends Tom over the edge.

And then suddenly she stops for a moment, and Tom almost simultaniously cries out in frustration and joy. It’s all quiet – except for their panting – when Charlie takes his face between her hands and stares into his eyes. She looks beautiful like this. On top of him, eyes blown wide, hair wet and tossled, mouth moving. Huh?

“Tom?”

“Huh?”

She grins despite the arousal she must be feeling. Or because of it? “Won’t last. Take me. Here. Be fast.”

She’s wiggling so much now that even a slightly more coherent Tom would have dropped her. He’s still seeing Charlie’s face full of pleasure in his imagination when she slides lower.

And then here, in a private pool in Majorca, Tom slides home.

Oh yes, that’s more like it.

Charlie feels Tom slide home and sees his eyes roll back for a bit. Then she doesn’t much see anything apart from darkness and sparkly lights because she’s pressing her eyes shut and concentrating on the feeling of him finally inside her. It’s different with the water somehow heightening her senses. Might have even been less pleasurable if she wasn’t so damn aroused.

Her moan mixes with Tom’s incoherent mutters and then a half-yelped curse when she shifts her hips to change her angle. Now he’s sliding even deeper and hitting all the right spots along the way.

Biting back a curse of her own, Charlie blindly seeks Tom’s mouth and feels their tongues tangle before they part to pant harshly. She’s probably ten seconds from combusting.

Experimentally tightening around his length, Charlie hears Tom whimper, actually whimper. Well, that’s not a sound she gets often. So she does it again, her climax so close she can almost taste it.

Tom’s hands dig into her and then his teeth dig into her neck. He’s muttering something against her wet skin. Something about “too fast” or “can’t last”?

“N-now,” she stutters, adding a grind to his rapid, deep thrusts that has her bundle of nerves scrape across his slick, hard belly and makes her lose it. “Now, Tom, now-now-now.”

And then it’s less darkness and more bright sparks and it all feels so intense she wants to crawl into Tom and hang on for dear life.

He won’t last more than two seconds. He can’t seem to catch his breath, and all Tom feels is Charlie shuddering above and tightening around him.

He closes his eyes, trying to hold on to Charlie as she almost seems to float around him. Or maybe that’s just the lack of blood in his brain.

Tom can’t hold his rhythm, and the way Charlie’s chanting his name doesn’t help either. He doesn’t know what he’s saying but his mouth is moving.

Then it’s two long groans, and one last thrust, before it’s all white light. He’s holding on for dear life.

After what feels like hours, but might just be seconds, Charlie turns her head to press a kiss against Tom’s temple, but he almost can’t feel it. His body’s tingling. He also wishes he could have lasted longer. For this to last longer.

“I missed you,” Charlie mumbles against him, leaving kisses on his face and shoulders.

“Love you,” he whispers. He falls back against the pool’s edge, taking Charlie with him. He kisses her cheek. “Very much.”

Charlie makes a sound that reminds him of Boots when he’s purring in bliss. And that’s what he feels too, sated bliss. He still can’t really feel his legs or arms, but that’s just peachy.

“I love you too,” Charlie murmurs after a while, startling him out of his trance-like state. “Can we do that again?”

It takes a moment for that to sink in, and another long moment to realize that she’s shifting and arching again, nuzzling his neck.

Yup, she’s going to be the death of him.

Tom gives in to the startled guffaw that wants out, feeling Charlie shake in his embrace as he somehow manages not to drop her or himself into the water while he slides her down to her feet.

“We can definitely do that again…but give a man a moment to remember his own name, will you?”

She’s sniggering at him but he loves the sound. Some blinking clears his eyes, and then for good measure, he shakes his head too, scattering water drops. God, he’s half undressed, Charlie’s still gloriously naked, and he’s now realizing just what they’ve done. No regrets, though. Not a single flying fuck to be given whether they might’ve been heard.

Tom composes himself enough to haul himself out of the pool–admittedly with trembling limbs that feel a tonne heavy–and miraculously manages to pull his sodden trousers up, though he can’t quite make the zipper and button work. He grabs one of those huge towels always lying around and holds it out for Charlie.

“How about we get ourselves inside and dry, or dry and inside, and then we indulge in some much-needed cuddling before we try for round two?”

He attempts a wink, which makes her giggle. “Deal.”

* * *

They make it back inside, trying to be as quiet as possible, but failing. Especially when they see Charlie’s clothes strewn along the way. And Charlie can’t hold back her laugh either, when she sees Tom wobble along in his wet trousers.

She doesn’t know what exactly happened – well, she won’t forget either – but she feels lighter than she has in weeks. Connected. Though, Charlie blushes a bit thinking about just how connected they’ve been just minutes ago.

“I’ll go change and then check on Evie.” Tom’s voice brings Charlie out of her thoughts. She grins and nods.

“I’ll wait,” she purrs. Her hand lingers on Tom’s lower arm and squeezes a bit. Making sure he understands what exactly she’s waiting for.

Charlie sniggers at the way Tom’s blushing adorably. No matter how much dirty things they’re doing and how little they regret it – and no matter how freaking hot he is – Tom has something so nice and cute about him that makes him so different from the roles he’s become famous for.

Tom clears his throat. “Great. Good.”

Charlie grins, then walks away, hips swaying. In their bedroom, Charlie makes sure that her body is dry before she lights the two candles on the drawer, switches off the big light, and then jumps into bed, draping the covers around herself.

She’s waiting and ready.

When Tom walks in a few minutes later–he may have held his head under cold running water before drying himself so he can think clearly again–his breath gets stuck in his throat.

Charlie is spread out on the bed like a delectable feast, the sheets draped strategically so they reveal more than they cover. Her body is glowing in the candlelight, and the sultry smile she sends him sets him on fire. Seriously, he’s feeling so hot he’s expecting to combust at any moment. He’s just had her but now he’s just as desperate for her as a few minutes ago.

Nope, that won’t do. Tom recites his favourite Greek philosophers in his head and wills himself to breathe. Then he steps into the room and closes the door. He’s wearing only a towel draped around his hips, and the way Charlie is letting her gaze roam over his torso is NOT helping this whole trying-to-breathe endeavour. He recites some more philosophers, then loses his train of thought when Charlie beckons him closer with a finger.

“You’ve been gone forever. I’m feeling decidedly lonely,” she purrs.

Heaven help him, and all the ancient Greek wise men too, please.

“Let’s change that then,” he manages to reply.

Striding over, he tugs the covers away and looks his fill until Charlie is the one squirming and blushing. He places his hand at her throat where her pulse is hammering, then lets it slide down her body, deliberately avoiding her breasts on the way down and then skimming his fingertips along a quivering inner thigh.

“Tom.” She sounds all breathy. “I want you again.”

He nods his head, maybe a bit too eagerly. “Yes. But slowly this time.”

Yes. Slowly. Charlie squirms, feeling Tom’s fingers make their way from her inner thigh to the back of her knee and then move up on the outer side until they reach her right hip.

With his other hand Tom simultaneously travels up along Charlie’s ribcage and higher still barely brushing the side of her breast.

She doesn’t know how, but somehow Tom manages to touch her everywhere at once. She feels so hot, she can’t hold back the moan that desperately wants to leave. Almost as desperately as Charlie wants Tom inside her.

“Tom,” she’s mumbling now. “Please.”

“Please what?”

Charlie can’t help but grin. Tom’s voice sounds decidedly less steady than his body is trying to make her believe.

“Touch me,” she answers, and then squirms again when both of Tom’s hands squeeze.

“Where?”

“Hngh.” That’s not eloquent, but she can’t manage much more. So instead she grabs both of Tom’s hands with her own and pushes them to her middle. “There.”

Now it’s Tom who moans and groans.

And then it’s all heavy whispers and nips and licks. It’s fingers touching her bud, it’s Charlie’s hands tracing Tom’s abs and grabbing his member.

It’s hushed words and moans of their names. They caress, they kiss, they move together, Tom not yet inside her, but his lips on hers, close to her core.

And then there’s just white light again and Charlie arches her back to Tom’s encouraging words of letting go.

They meet again, this time mouth on mouth.

“I need you,” Tom whispers against her.

Charlie still can’t find enough brain cells for words, so she nods frantically and spreads her legs even wider.

Tom looks rather desperate by now, if her eyes are working properly. But still he takes his damn sweet time to slide over and against her, getting her fired up again in no time. She hasn’t got a clue how many more times she could come but she’s sure as hell going to try.

And then he slides home on a guttural moan and she realizes it probably won’t take much trying.

Nope, not much at all because he’s angling his hips and thrusting slowly but deeply and she can already see stars again.

But just when Charlie think this will be it, Tom drops his sweaty forehead to hers and stills.

“S-sorry. Give me a moment. I promised you slow.”

She doesn’t want to give him a moment. But when she attempts to wriggle, he uses his body weight to pin her to the mattress. And then he’s kissing the living daylights out of her and Charlie loses her last working brain cells.

Suddenly they’re shifting and she’s on top, Tom’s hands clenched so tightly around her waist that she’ll probably sport faint bruises. She doesn’t care. She wants to wear her bikini and show off those bruises to all the world.

When she rocks her hips on a whimper, Tom arches beneath her with a groan. But his grip on her is firm and he controls her movements so she can’t ride them to a fast end.

And so she leans forward a bit, bracing her hands on his chest, and they sort of rub and writhe and shimmy themselves to bliss while they hold each other’s gaze.


End file.
